


H E A T H E N S

by FrozenHearts



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bars and Pubs, Blood Mages, Danarius being an Asshole, Fenris deserves so much better, Gen, I hate Danarius, Implied Sexual Content, Lyrium, Mentioned Hawke, Name-Calling, Protective Iron Bull, Protective Varric Tethras, Public Humiliation, Slave Fenris, Slight OOC, he needs to die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8853970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenHearts/pseuds/FrozenHearts
Summary: There are some things The Iron Bull can't believe Varric has written in his books. 
He hopes this incident never makes it into the next issue.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've never played the Dragon Age games, so my information is coming from Wikipedia and other fanfics and Tumblr. If I get anything wrong, let me know and I'll fix it.

All Varric wanted to do was play a game of Wicked Grace. It had been some time since he had seen Bull, and since his serials were a bit lacking (Cassandra was the only person who really liked the damn books, no matter how much she denied it), he'd hoped Bull's escapades with the Fog Warriors would help spice things up a bit, get him motivated to write instead of drinking himself into a stupor.

Which was usually Hawke's thing. Damn the man for having deined it necessary to follow Merill and Isabela across the seas. Damn them all.

Bull had come in the afternoon, the purpled sky becoming a deeo velvet as he shouldered his way into the pub. His horn had stuck fast on the moulding and he scowled as he freed himslef.

"I keep telling you, dwarf," Bull teased as he pulled up a chair, "to raise your ceilings."

Varric took a swig of beer, "Costs money."

"You have money."

"My books. Which are selling like nug shit on a cool winter's eve."

Bull chuckled, his deep voice rumbling across the empty pub, "Cassandra likes them."

"Cassandra can go to hell," Varric slammed his ale mug down. A bit of it sloshed over the rim, "Her and all her damn middle names."

Bull hummed in repsonse, "I don't believe even demons of the Fade could get through them in a fight."

Varric sighed. This was getting him nowhere, "Care to tell me of your travels with the Fog Warriors?"

Bull said, "It is the same story, my friend. There isn't much to tell."

"Oh, boo you. You're all talk, aren't ya?"

"And you're drunk."

Point taken. Varric knew he shouldn't be drinking the stores dry, but he needed something to tide him over. It was either drink or go Sera's place and she would probably just make fart jokes and giggle that high pitched giggle she always did when making fun of him. So they sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Bull reaching across the table to flick through the deck of cards Varric laod out earlier. The paper was thin and yellowed, the cards flimsy from yeara of use. Varric was pretty sure a few were stained with alcohol, grease, and either Hawke's or Anders' manhood. 

Scratch that thought; Anders would never stoop so low.

"The bar is fairly empty, is it not?" Bull finally broke the silence, "With everyone away."

Varric nodded. "It isn't that bad. There's no one to try and pickpocket my customers or cheat at cards." He gestured to the deck that Bull was leafing through, "Wanna go for a round? Winner get's to raide the other's loot on the next job."

Bull was about to answer, the creak and slam of the door beating him to the punch. 

"Another time, friend," Bull said, jutting his chin at the man who had just walked in, "It seems you have a customer."

"Andraste's tits," Varric muttered. He let Bull swipe the cards from him, inspecting each as if they were simply excerpts from the gossip column in the paper. The man who had just walked in seemed wobbly on his feet, his spiky armor and shock of white hair matted and smeared with crimson.

Well, shit.

Varric did his best to ignore the blood, the way the man (elf, he realized once he saw the pointed ears as the warrior shook the hair from startling green eyes) panted with each breath- and the lyrium trailing along his skin. 

He had heard of lyrium, sure, but it was some nasty stuff. Anders once said if enough was used, it could drive a person mad due to poisoning. It glowed brightly and was said to allow the user access to the Fade; the elf sure looked like he wanted to go there now as he plonked himself down on a stool.

"I apologize for the blood, dwarf," the elf huffed, "I didn't think anyone would be following me so far from Tevinter."

"Quite alright, elf," Varric assured him as he poured him a glass, even though it most assuredly was not alright. In this bar alone, Varric had seen Hawke shed so much blood to fill an entire hospital, but he wasn't sure this elf could be put in the same category. Hawke was a rambunctious man, and this elf looked anything but. He was acutely aware of Bull boring holes into him as he shuffles the deck of cards.

"I can pay for damage-"

Varric cut him off with a chuckle, "No worries, elf. I've seen far worse than you walking in here all mucked up like you are. Here," Varric placed a mug on the counter, ale sloshing ocer the sides to splatter on the counter, some getting on the elf's ridiculously dainty hands, "On the house. Looks like you need one."

For a second, the elf stared at him, eyeing the drink with disdain. Varric raised an eyebrow, peering over his shoulder at Bull. Bull, in typical Bull fashion, merely shrugged and smirked at him, turning back to inspect the playing cards. After a few minutes, however, the elf reached for the mug reluctantly, taking a small sip before nodding his thanks and taking a giant swig.

Licking his lips, Varric said, "So what brings you to Kirkwall? And from blasted Tevinter of all places?"

The elf had a hard look in his eye, averting his gaze. He traced the rim of the mug with a slender finger, "Freedom."

Varric laughed. What kind of answer was that? Honestly, Kirkwall- Darktown or Hightown especially- were the most dangerous places anyine could think of living. Demons rampaged across the streets and people were mugged, murdered and violated on a daily basis. Varric told him so.

"I can handle myself," was the elf's growled reply, and Varric thought the lyrium along his skin glowed slightly as if to back up his claim.

"Right, well if you need more, I'll just set this bottle right here-" Varric pulled the alcohol from it's perch on the wall, placing it in front of the elf, "so you can have at that if you'd like. I'll be over there with Bull- he's a friend- so just holler if you need anything. Yeah?"

The elf raised an eyebrow at him before giving him what was possibly a smile, "Yes. Thank you...?"

Right. Names. That was what one usually said first. Clearing his throat, Varric hastily introduced himself before scuttling off to Bull. The chair groaned as he pulled it out, but honestly, all he wanted to do was play Wicked Grace and tuck in.

He didn't want to have to watch Broody at the bar all night drink himself into a stupor. Hawke did that enough already.

\-----

Iron Bull sensed something was off when the elf had walked in. Unsteady on his feet, the elf seemed rather detached as his armor clanked around his form, quiet as he sat down at the bar. Even when Varric was talking with him, overhearing somethinf about Tevinter. Honestly, he wasn't really paying much attention to the cards at this point, trying to listen to the deep rumble of the elf's voice as he spoke.

But then Varric had returned, leaving the elf with the bottle of alcohol and slumped shoulders.

"Who's he?" Bull asked when Varric sat down, "A friend of yours?"

"Bloke didn't say his name," Varric shrugged, "probably just passing through."

Bull barked out a laugh, seeing the stranger jump ij his chair from over Varric's shoulder. 

"Pretty jumpy man," Bull commented, "What'd he want?"

Varric shook his head, "Just a beer. No jobs mentioned either."

"Well that story won't help sell your books," Bull chuckled. Varric nodded, "Cassandra will still buy them, you know."

"Be sure some of her many middle names does too, it might help with sales."

"Fuck you."

Bull smirked, "Not on a first date, sweetheart."

Now Varric was smug, swiping a card up to inspect it. A goblet was etched onto the back, the ink faded and the card's corners curling from use. Varric turned the card over in his palm, "Isn't that what Dorian said to you right before you frenched him?"

Bull tried to fight the blush he knew was creeping onto his face, "I still can't believe you wrote that into your book. Everyone in our friend group knows mine is bigger."

Bull stole a glance over the crown of Varric's head as Varric replied with something witty. The elf was still at the bar, although he seemed to be shaking more than when he had walked in. Probably from drinking an entire bottle, he mused, but Bull kept an eye on him.

Something... Something just didn't sit right with him. It wasn't even the fact that he was covered in blood, but Bull watched as the elf dug out a few coins and slammed them on the bar counter before getting up and briskly walking himself out.

Of course, the elf didn't make it out. The door was slammed open, making the elf startle and nearly lunge away in desperation as a man in sweeping purple robes walked in, flaunting a few guards in similar armor.

"Fenris, my little wolf," the newcomer greeted in a voice that made Bull's skin crawl, "I never thought I'd find you here."

Bull nudged Varric's hand and jutted his chin towards the door, "Your new friend seems to have brought trouble."

Varric groaned, "Ah. Well, fuck. Who just walked in?"

Bull narrowed hus eyes at the man. He was tall and well built for a human, and the robes he wore were made with great care and detail. A staff was in his hand, his knuckles white in a death grip.

"A mage," Bull said, "possibly a blood mage, he seems evil enough."

"Evil?"

Bull shrugged, "He's old and kinda wrinkly. Has a staff and some guards- I'd say that's pretty evil."

The air seemed almost acrid with magic as the mage tepped towards the elf, Fenris. He reached out and Bull raised an eyebrow as he took Fenris's chin in his hands, yanking him over roughly.

"I see freedom has confused you, my dear pet," the mage actually sounded sad, "there is no more of the affection you held for me in your eyes." 

Fenris pulled himself away, "There was never any affection, Danarius." The name sounded like poison, acid burning a hole in the floor.

Danarius laughed and Bull wanted to get up  leave. But Varric was still here. It wouldn't do to leave him to such a hostile man. Especially now that he figured it out: Fenris, Tevinter. The way he seemed to hold himself, distrustful of the drink Varric gave him earlier.

His response. Freedom.

"Awww, shit," Bull cursed, a bit too loudly for his liking.

"What?" Varric asked. His back was still turned towards Fenris, eerily calm as he flicked through the cards.

"Your little elf friend there is a slave, Var."

Varric paled, and he placed the cards down with trembling hands. If there was anything Bull knew Varric hated most, it was the mere concept of slavery. The practice was absolutely monstrous. The dwarf froze as realization filled his eyes. Danarius continued to speak.

"I'm sure we can fix that, little wolf," Danarius almost purred. Bull clenched a fist as he watched Danarius flick his fingers and Fenris collapsed to his knees with a heavy thud.

It was obvious Fenris was trying not to cry out in pain. Blue lines glowed on his arms  legs, shafts of light peeking through his armor. Bull had a clear view of Fenris's feet; they were lined with lyrium as well, bloody and calloused from travel without shoes.

"That's a better place, isn't it?" Danarius said, "I remember you servicing me quite often like this."

Fenris was silent. Danarius took that as incentive to continue, "You looked so pretty, shivering on the floor as I-"

"S-Shut your mo-mouth, Danarius!" Fenris managed, and Bull pushed himself out of his chair at the pained yelp, the slap of an open palm against his cheek.

"Slaves don't make demands," Danarius was cold, "Now you can come the easy way or the hard way."

Normally, if anyone said such a thing, Bull knew Sera or Hawke would point out  obvious innuendo. But Varric was tense in his chair, eyes clouded with anger and Bull reached under the table for his weapon as he watched Danarius use his nasty blood tricks, the lyrium burning bright in Fenris's body as he cried out in agony, scrabbling and clawing at the floor.

"I want to hear you beg, little wolf, Danarius cooed. "This can all stop only if you do as I say."

Bull tightened hia grip on his sword, hidden under  the able. He made sure he had a good grip as Varric hopped off his chair towards the bar.

Under the bar was where Varric kept his crossbow.

Fenris was sobbing now from the pain. A guard leaned over to spit on him, Danarius running his hands along Fenris's legs, holding him  down through a fresh wave of pain.

"He's panting like a whore," one of the guards laughed, and Danarius gave a wolfish grin, toothy and vile.

"He can service you on  way back if you need," Danarius said as Fenris whined with pain.

"We can just take him now- he's practically begging!" another guard jested, and Fenris protested loudly, struggling under Danarius's hands as the guards joked and laughed.

The twang of a bowstring caught everyone's attention as Varric risked a shot towards Danarius. The bolt landed in thr mage's shoulder, knocking him backwards in shock. Bull let go of his sword, leaving it under the table to stalk menacingly towards the guards. They all gawked at his stature, slowly backing away.

"Step away from him." Bull commanded. 

Danarius had a hand pressed against his wound, the gash healing as he slowly pulled the arrow out, "He is my property! You can't do this!"

"My bar, my rules," Varric called from the bar, "Get your filthy hands away from him."

The guards had their weapons at the ready, and Bull laughed whole-heartedly. Compared to himself, these cretins looked like children. He took a step forward, placing himself between Fenris and this asshole. Behind him, Fenris curled in on himself, small whimpers of pain escaping clenched teeth. The lyrium still glowed, not as bright as before though.

"That abomination is my slave! I made him what he is!" Danarius boomed angrily, "I am taking him back  Tevinter!"

Bull raised a fist, "This is my fist. I am going to introduce it to the ugly mug you call a face."

Varric cocked his crossbow, "And then I'm going to introduce you to a bolt in your dick. Touch him or go after him again we'll kill you and your men on sight."

Danarius was fuming, glaring daggers at Fenris as he dragged himself along the floor, his features a mix of fear and confusion as Danarius picked himself up and snapped at his guards.

He looked at Fenris, "You'll be mine again soon, little wolf. Just you wait."

Bull crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes, "Oh, we will."

Fenris collapsed bonelessly once they had left, and Varric vaulted over thr bar, rushing to Fenris as he shook violently. Bull scooped up thr quivering  and was surprised not  hear any protests hail his ears. Instead he heard a soft apology followed by a shout as the lyrium flashed and Fenria twisted like putty in Bull's arms.

"It's gonna be okay, el- Fenris. We'll make sure he doesn't come back again."

Fenris only shouted once more, tears dotting the corners of his eyes. Bull found it disturbing, that Danarius could still hurt Fenris this way, practically burn him alive from the inside out.

Add slavery to the mix and Bull wanted to throw up. He sent Varric to run for Anders, bring Hawke as well.

They'd make sure Danarius never came near Fenris again. That was a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> The Iron Bull and Varric agree that this incident will never be mentioned again, but the group catches on pretty fast. Hawke and Isabela always trail behind Fenris and take care of slavers if they're following and trying to catch him offguard.
> 
> In the end, Anders finds out and with Justice and Merril's and Aveline's help, all of them end up protecting Fenris in some way and are absolutely ecstatic the day they run into Danarius and Fenris rips out his heart.
> 
> Fenris cries for the first time in a while, but he's finally a free elf. He no longer needs to worry about being caught and he has friends who genuinely like and care him and will help him every step of the way.


End file.
